Mad World
by Ellered
Summary: Rico has a nightmare about a future but she doesn't know it yet. Rico, Jean. Blood and violence in later chapters.


_A black figure stands in the middle of the desert and raised the hand at the right, a trail of silk material moved gently in the hot breeze. The fingers were feminine and she moved a little to allow the cowl of the hood to fall over, revealing bright tresses that fell around her eyes. The fading beauty of her appearance was striking. But it was the sadness in her eyes that shocked Rico. The reflection of the wet sky chilled her._

Rico had awakened to find herself sweating, her pajamas were stuck to her skin and she pulled aside the covers to free the confines of the passing night.

A vision of despair and sadness and the passing of time had rendered her timeless.

She gazed around the room with her dark eyes, alight with fright, something she never thought she'd feel again. It was not that the dream itself was frightening or that it appeared to threaten her in anyway, but somehow as she pulled her clothes off of her body, there was something significant about it.

She drew a deep breath. Frankly she was getting kind of tired of the same recuring dreams. _What does this mean? Is there a significance? _

Her feet touched the cold floor and she ran to her dresser to pull out another night shirt, abandoning the one she threw on the ground. When her eyes flickered to her clock, it ticked menacingly to the hour that told her she didn't have time to go back to sleep.

Dawn was trickling into her window, passed the curtains, and Rico automatically went into her state of going through the normal procedure. She provided the mental list in her head; as day in and day out seemed to weave together like clockwork.

-Shower quickly.  
-Get dressed.  
-Go down to eat breakfast.  
-Prepare for the next assignment.  
-Go to target practice.

With these few automatic errands in the morning, she had to be quick about it. It was demanded on her not to dawdle. That was what her handler said to her constantly.

And, it was up to her handler if she had any assignments that day. Sometimes, just sometimes they were given to them; the girls, the duties of the upcoming events that they are prepared before hand. But a few times, there were assignments that were spontaneous. Rico had to be prepared. Her handler was especially strict on her and she never minded. It made her feel special, _different._

In the morning, when the sun peeked inside the breakfast room, rays of golden transclucent dust shimmered on the perfect china cups, plates and illuminated the amber liquid of the tea.

It was time for breakfast tea, milk, and a balanced meal of proteins and carbs. Rico saw Henrietta chewing thoughtfully, her eyes on the bowl of cereal before her. She didn't see anyone else in the room and wondered where everyone was at.

Henrietta looked up to see her friend. "Oh. Everyone's already had breakfast. They've been assigned a mission last night and had to go out early."

Rico silently sat down, her dark blue turtleneck accentuated her blonde hair. Reaching over to take the muffin, she sat back and looked out the window.

Her companion took note of the silence.

"Is everything okay?"

Rico turned back to her, "Do you get nightmares?"

Henrietta drew her brows together, "I'm not sure. I don't like to dream."

There was a silence between them.

They ate between those perks of silent gaps, finishing off the muffin and drinking the rest of the tea. They were assigned to eat a healthy balanced meal, everyday—as it was essential to keep alert and fit for the upcoming missions.

Time ticked on, an endless picturesque sight of their friendship merging with the sun's burning stare, and she knew it was not enough. Not enough to keep going like this, and the sound of doors closing and opening alert them that it was time long ago.

She took the cup between her small fingers and sipped the luke-warm liquid, feeling the taste in her mouth, savouring the flavour.

"Why do you ask?" Henrietta finally said, and she was already getting up to clean up the dishes, "Are you having them?"

"Do they mean anything?" Was the response, small between her furrowed brow, as Rico looked down, tight-lipped.

"I don't believe in them."

Rico got up, nodded and thanked her friend, "I guess I have to get going, then, how about you? You have anything to do today?"

Henrietta shrugged, "No, my handler doesn't have any assiignments for me this week, unless it's an emergency—last minute thing or something."

"They do that?" Rico frowned.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I'm just guessing." Then she looked at her friend with a smile, "You come back after your assignment?"

"Yes, I'd like that. If I could. I don't think I'll be practicing with my handler today."

"Take care."

Rico walked out, almost skipping, her heart seemed quite filled with an overwhelming need to please her brother. They were not really brother and sister but it was nice to be considered the _fratello_ pair, and it brought her joy, what little she had—to see Jean-san.

He was waiting for her, there by the doorway, the entranceway—the arch over him—and the sun shining bright on his blond head; his expression was as always—mute and stern, a statuesque broad shouldered young man who was always stern with her.

She didn't mind. She never minded that her handler was a little tougher than the rest. In fact, she liked it when she managed to please him.

"You're late, Rico." He told her, displeased, his hands were inside his jacket pocket, "don't do that ever again."

"It's only been two minutes." She mentally counted the time from the time she left Henrietta's place, "I'm sorry." She said this as an afterthought—for Jean-san's temper was not the best.

"Two minutes too late if that would have been an important assignment which could cost us our lives."

She blinked, and almost gasped,for she didn't want that to happen. Nothing in the world would be so terrible as to have her handler taken away from her. It was her very life to protect him and if she lost hers in the process—that didn't matter. Her body was to be a shield for his.

He openly sighed, saw the look of alarm in her eyes, "All right, let's go."

Jean turned, without a backward glance and Rico happily followed. They gathered themselves in the car, Rico placing the seatbelt in securely and her handler started the car. He turned on the navigator, showing the map of the city's road system.

"We'll go quietly inside the building, where we are headed, a hotel—that means I want you to pretend I'm your older brother, which goes without saying. We'll check into a room, and have all the necessary weapons there. In the room beside us, are our targets. They won't know that we're there, of course."

She nodded in assent, quiet and passive in the car, her eyes staring straight ahead.

"Afterward, if all goes successful, we'll see about going to get ice cream."

For the second time that day, Rico gasped, but not in alarm this time—it was in a pleasurable surprise. Never has Jean-san ever taken her out to get treats. It was not his style, while other cyborg girls were given treats like Henrietta's violin and dolls, or with stuffed animals and new dressed for the other girls by their handlers—a reward of sorts---Jean-san just did not do that.

For awhile it hurt her, the pain in her chest was even more alarming than anything in the world, but she forced it down, swallowed that irritating pain that stabbed through her heart. She was a cyborg—a machine rolled up in a small package, nothing more.

"What's the matter? This job we're doing is a very complicated assignment—a half dozen criminals in an organized crime, and we're going to be working very hard to get these degenerates down; they're trained assassins, Rico. You must be on your toes."

Even if he hadn't said that, she knew he knew that she was good—almost too good in her skill as a talented gunslinger and in combat to combat play.

She smiled brightly. It was turning out to be a good day. She'll prove more than her worth, looking forward to that ice cream.

That dream. Could it be?

She felt that that woman in the hood in the middle of the desert, was her.

A cold tremor ran through her small body.


End file.
